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Simon sighs loudly, looking out the window.
The sound of the rain hitting the pavement is so loud that the music they usually put in the background of the shop is almost inaudible.
He’s already planning to walk home or spend the night at his mom’s after closing. She took the car today and he’s definitely not motivated by the idea of going back to his appartement while riding his bike if the weather stays this shitty. He would need to come back for it the next day, hoping no one stole it, but people are usually well-mannered in that corner of Bjärstad so that doesn’t worry him too much.
Lightning pierces the sky and the rain falls even harder, making Simon shiver. He’s never been a big fan of storms, but he tries to focus on the positive, he won’t need to water the plants laid out in front of the shop before leaving later.
Sara left about an hour ago to hang out with her friend Felice, which means that Simon is the only one behind the counter. It sucks. Simon hates being in charge of closing because it means finishing at seven in the evening, but at least this time he's not really alone since his mom is in the back working on the orders for the next day.
It’s been a slow day so far and Simon is starting to get bored out of his mind when the little bell above the door finally rings, the sound echoing in his ears like the best thing he ever heard.
He has a customer.
The first thing Simon notices about the boy who just came in is that he’s completely soaked. His hair is dripping and plastered to his forehead, some strands falling in front of his eyes, probably weighed down by the water. Simon wonders if he’s able to see in front of him at all when he walks. He’s also wearing a dark blue coat which looks extremely expensive – Simon thinks he recognizes a Yves Saint Laurent – unfortunately, no matter how much money you put into an item of clothing, if it is not made to withstand the rain then it will be of no use.
The boy sneezes loudly then looks around before sighing and whispering "shit" several times under his breath. Simon tries not to let his amusement show on his face when he clears his throat, notifying the boy of his presence.
It works, as the boy immediately stands up straight and looks in his direction. Simon knows fully well that no customer likes to be harassed by questions when they just arrived. But judging by how utterly lost the boy looks, Simon thinks it’s okay.
"May I help you?"
The boy flushes bright red. He bites the inside of his cheek, looks around him one more time and at the rain still pouring outside.
“I am so sorry. I’m afraid I was just taking shelter from the rain… Is that okay? I can totally go if my presence pauses any kind of inconvenience.” He stops, eyes falling onto the sign with their opening hours written on it and starts to look a little panicked. “Oh my god, are you closing soon? Shit. I’ll go!”
“Hey, wait!” Simon says coming out from behind the counter. “We don’t close before another thirty minutes and I’m guessing you don’t have an umbrella, right?”
The boy snorts.
“What gave it away?”
Simon laughs a little.
“Let’s just say the wet look thing you have going on isn’t really fitting in the middle of April.”
The boy hums.
“Really,” Simon insists. “You can stay here until we close and if we’re lucky the rain will have stopped by then.”
The boy looks like he’s considering it.
“Yeah okay. Thank you so much, you’re really nice…” his voice trails off as his eyes look for a badge on Simon’s chest with his name on it, but he’s not wearing one. There is no need when Bjärstad is so small. Everyone knows each other.
“Simon.”
The boy smiles, holding out his hand.
“Thank you for rescuing me, Simon. My name is Wi – Wille.”
Simon shakes his hand, a little amused by this strange boy and his proper manners.
“Wanna take a look around? I know you’re not here to buy anything but you might find something you like.”
Wille brushes his hair back.
“I don’t – I’m not sure. I know nothing about flowers.”
Simon breaks into a smile. His salesman smile that he knows to be quite dazzling.
It seems to work if the pink on Wille’s cheeks is anything to go by.
He’s pretty cute, Simon decides upon looking at him more closely. He’s got a small dainty nose and very expressive brown eyes, their color reminding Simon of Angel Amber Kiss with their bright-orange face peering from amber-toned petals. His face is pretty angular with well defined cheekbones dotted with freckles. He seems nice and approachable, almost familiar.
Simon chuckles mentally. What would seem more familiar in Sweden than a white boy with blond hair?
“When were you born?” he asks after a while. “I can show you your birth flower if you want?”
Wille blinks, amazement written across his features.
“That sounds awesome.”
Wille tells him he was born in February while Simon guides him among the flower displays. Their flower shop is not classified in alphabetical order but by color gradient, so the blue and purple flowers are on the far right towards the end.
Simon points at the flowers with a wave of his hand.
“Violets. Ancient Greeks used them for love potions. I think one is used in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream too, if I remember correctly,” Simon adds, scrunching his nose while trying to recall what he learned during his literature lessons at Hillerska. “They symbolize truth, loyalty, humility and even romance.”
“Shit. All of that?”
Simon hums, fingers stroking the purple petals.
“How do you know all that stuff?”
Simon turns around to face him, expecting to find judgment on his face but Wille doesn’t look like he thinks Simon is weird. He seems genuinely curious. Simon doesn’t know what it is about him but he feels comfortable enough to open up to him.
“I grew up surrounded by flowers. It's my mom's shop, but my sister and I have been helping her since we were little, whenever we have time.” He smiles at the memory. “I always liked it. People can be pretty awful sometimes. They’re mean and they judge, but flowers… You pour your love into them and your effort, and as you watch them bloom… it all makes sense. The world, I mean,” he chuckles a bit, playing with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “Sorry, I know I sounded like a nerd right there.”
Wille shakes his head, sending drops of water all over the place.
“No! You sounded passionate… and super smart.”
Simon feels a warm feeling squeezing his heart.
“Thank you.”
There is a silence then while they both clear their throats nervously, avoiding eye contact.
“What’s this one?” Wille eventually asks, eyes fixed on a flower with more pinkish tones.
“Ah! It’s a primrose. The sacred flower of the Norse goddess of love, Freya. They literally mean ‘I can’t live without you.’ But you can also use them to symbolize young love and undying affection. They’re perfect for a first date, really.”
Wille smiles before sneezing again a couple times and looking down at the ground.
“They look really pretty.”
Simon smiles back.
“They do.”
It’s funny actually that Wille noticed the primroses among all the other flowers, because it’s Simon’s favourite and they aren’t usually that popular. Delicately, Simon takes one from the bucket and presents it to Wille.
“Do you want to smell it?”
Wille takes a step back, his eyes wide and a bit red now that Simon is paying more attention.
“Hum. No thanks.”
Simon frowns. Weird.
“Actually, I think I’m going to go now… the rain stopped so.”
“Oh.”
He’s right. It’s totally dark outside but it’s not raining anymore. Simon feels a pang of sadness at the thought of seeing Wille leave. He seems like a nice guy and it’s not often that someone seems genuinely interested by what Simon is saying. His friends are great, that’s why he’s sharing a flat with them, but they don’t really get the whole flower thing. They never have.
“Do you want an umbrella? Just in case it starts raining again?”
Wille looks taken aback by the question.
“But what about you?”
Simon laughs a little.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ve got a ride home,” he says, heading towards the cupboard where they store their things when the shop is open.
He comes back to Wille with the biggest umbrella they own. It’s black with a myriad of flowers scattered on it. Wille smiles when he sees it and their fingers brush as he holds out his hand to take it from Simon. They both pull away really fast, as burnt. Simon curses his damn heart for skipping a beat. Crushes are stupid. He doesn’t even know the damn guy, damn it!
Wille looks a bit flushed but he still tries to look into Simon’s eyes when he says goodbye.
“Thank you so much Simon. I’ll bring it back as soon as I can!”
The tone in his voice makes it sound like a promise.
Simon bites his bottom lip to keep from smiling.
“I hope so.”
There is a moment of hesitation in which neither of them makes an attempt to move, then Wille takes a deep breath and turns around, nearly tripping over some empty flower pots. Simon chuckles as he watches him disappear down the street. His mom chooses this moment to come back.
“Was that the prince?” she asks him in Spanish.
Simon bursts out laughing.
Yeah sure, the prince.
*
Turns out his mom was right.
Simon is stupid.
And ‘Wille’ was actually Wilhelm, Prince of Sweden.
Simon can’t even begin to describe the intense feeling of mortification that almost drowned him when he found out. He freaking flirted with the prince. And worst of all, he hadn't even recognized him and probably broken God knows how many etiquette rules by talking to him in such a familiar manner.
At this point Simon has convinced himself that he will never see Wilhelm or his umbrella ever again when one day, about a week after that famous rainy evening, the bell above the door rings and the fucking Prince of Sweden walks into the shop. He’s wearing the same dark blue coat but this time his hair is combed and styled so that a few blonde locks gracefully frame his face. He’s also wearing a scarf covered with blue, green and orange stripes that hides his nose and mouth, but his eyes are unmistakable.
The two other customers don’t pay him any mind but Sara glances at Wilhelm with a bewildered look on her face and turns to Simon to mouth ‘What the fuck’ at him. Simon shrugs. He doesn’t know what to think. Wilhelm greets Sara and the other customers with a nod before his eyes settle on Simon. He swallows, determination written all across his face and then he’s taking fast strides towards Simon, who’s standing behind the counter like last time.
“Hi,” Wilhelm says and Simon hates that his face is still the cutest face he ever laid his eyes on.
“Hello, Prince Wilhelm. May I assist you in any way?”
Wilhelm scowls as if he just bit into a lemon.
“Ah. I was wondering when you might figure it out.”
Simon arches an eyebrow.
“You were on T.V with the umbrella I gave you!”
“Yes – I… I’m sorry,” Wilhelm says, his shoulders sagging.
“I don’t enjoy being lied to,” Simon adds. “You made me feel really stupid.”
Wilhelm looks like he just got punched in the face.
“I know and I’m really sorry Simon. I was just…” He exhales, looking for his words. “God, I was just having the worst day and when you didn’t seem to recognize me and just treated me like I was a normal person, telling me about flowers and stuff… It felt nice, for once.”
Simon crosses his arms over his chest.
“Okay.”
“Look, I’m really sorry. It was never my attention to lead you on. I promise.”
Simon studies his face for any trace of dishonesty but he finds none.
“I accept your apology. Did you bring my umbrella back?”
Wilhelm smiles. Or at least, Simon thinks he’s smiling since his mouth and nose are still partly hidden by the scarf.
“I did. I’m also here as an official customer this time. You probably know already, but my cousin just had her baby and I wanted to gift her flowers.”
Simon doesn’t know. He doesn’t really keep up with the royal family and gossip in general. That’s why he didn’t recognize Wilhelm in the first place.
“Why come here though? You’re a prince. I'm sure there are other florists out there that cater to your kind of people.”
“I – There probably are, but I want you.” Wilhelm stops, his blush reaching the top of his cheekbones. Simon is getting properly endeared. “I mean… I trust you and your judgment. I don’t want just anyone giving me their opinion.”
Simon bites the inside of his cheek.
“Okay. I’ll help you Prince Wilhelm.”
Wilhelm closes his eyes.
“Please. Just Wilhelm.”
Simon fights the giddiness settling in his bones when he gets out from behind the counter and gives Wilhelm a head sign to signal he should follow him.
“I’ve got just the perfect flowers Wilhelm.”
“I’m sure you do.”
*
Wilhelm returns to the shop not once.
Not twice.
But thrice.
Each time leaving with a bunch of different flowers and even at some point, a bonsai tree.
Simon doesn't know exactly know what's going on between them. There is this flirty vibe whenever they talk to each other, and Simon caught Wilhelm staring at his lips more times that he can count, but it’s like there is this invisible line that none of them dares crossing. Simon is getting a little tired of it if he’s being honest. He wants to know what Wilhelm’s hair feels like under his fingers and if he tastes like those raspberry gums he’s always chewing on.
Simon has decided that next time Wilhelm comes around to the shop, he’ll ask him if he wants to take a coffee with him. He’s going through the different ways he could be smooth with it in his head while hanging a poster for his band's concert on the shop window, when a voice coming from behind him takes him by surprise.
“You sing?”
“For fuck sakes!” Simon shrieks.
He brings his hand to his mouth to lick at the blood coming out of the cut he just made on his finger. Wilhelm looks a little dazzled for a few seconds but then seems to come back to himself and proceeds to apologize profusely. He takes out a silk handkerchief from his pocket with his initials engraved on it and hands it to Simon.
Simon frowns.
“I’m not gonna put my blood on something that must cost more than my bike.”
“Please,” Wilhelm insists. “It’s the least I can do. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Simon rolls his eyes but accepts the handkerchief anyway.
“It’s fine. Happens all the times with thorns,” he says, showing off the plasters on the fingers of his left hand.
“You should be more careful.”
“Not everyone can keep their hands delicate and beautiful Wilhelm.”
He was aiming to make Wilhelm blush but instead he gets a cheeky smile.
“You think my hands are delicate and beautiful?”
Simon blinks.
“I – That wasn’t the point, oh my god.”
Wilhelm bursts out laughing.
“Anyway, you didn’t answer. This is your group?” He asks, pointing at the poster.
Simon nods, suddenly feeling a bit shy.
“I’ve got that band with some of my childhood friends and a girl I met at Hillerska. We’re not trying to make it out there or anything but Madison got some contact and we get to play in clubs sometimes. It’s quite nice actually.”
“What instrument do you play?” Wilhelm asks while pulling on his bottom lip with his teeth.
Simon wants to replace his teeth with his own and kiss him silly. He shakes his head, focusing on looking at Wilhelm through his lashes and taking a voice that he hopes is seductive enough.
“You’ll have to come and find out…”
Wilhelm takes a step towards him and he's about to answer when someone interrupts them.
“Wilhelm?”
“Erik?” Wilhelm says back but it comes out more as a weird strangled noise.
Simon can’t do anything but watch as the crown prince, the future king of Sweden walks towards them. He’s taller in person that he looks in photographs and the aura of power that he radiates is magnetic, yet the smile on his face looks friendly.
“What are you doing here?” Wilhelm asks, instinctively moving in front of Simon, as if trying to hide him from view.
It stings a bit, Simon isn’t gonna lie.
“I could ask you the same question,” Erik says before his eyes settle on Simon and the friendly smile on his face turns into a sneer. He looks at Simon and then Wilhelm, takes in how close they’re standing from each other and the fact that Simon is still holding that damn handkerchief and then bites his lip to contain a laugh. “Well, that explains it.”
Wilhelm is turning redder and redder by the second. Simon is actually worried he might faint.
“It’s an honor to have you here Crown Prince,” Simon says when the silence starts to get a little suffocating. “I’m Simon, Wilhelm’s… friend?”
Erik’ smile grows even wider until it takes half of his face and Wilhelm is pointedly looking at his feet.
“You must be quite a good friend for Wilhelm to come back here deliberately and attempt to drown his room with flowers despite his pollen allergy.”
Simon blinks.
“I’m sorry what?”
“Oh my god.” Wilhelm groans. “I can’t believe you just said that.” He looks absolutely mortified. “Just… go and wait for me outside.”
Erik winks at Simon before leaving and Simon just stays there, mouth hanging open from sheer shock. Wilhelm keeps on looking at the ground, probably wishing it would open up and swallow him whole and Simon can’t exactly blame him. The silence that follows is long. But it gives Simon time to think, and it all makes sense. Why Wilhelm kept on blocking his face with scarves or the collar of his coat. Why his eyes were always red and he had to blow his nose on more than one occasion.
Simon is speechless.
“So, you’ve got pollen allergy, uh?”
Wilhelm makes a sound, like a wounded animal and pulls on his hair before starting to retreat.
“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
He leaves before Simon has the time to give him his handkerchief back.
*
The stage explodes into color, flashing lights soaring as the music erupts into the air. Simon can see every face in the crowd, but he doesn’t find his. Wilhelm. Simon fights through the disappointment swelling in his chest and focus on playing the right chords on his guitar while he sings Golden by Harry Styles.
They don’t do original songs. Madison, Ayub, Rosh and him. They don’t have time and they don’t want to become a real group anyway. Music is just a cool thing that brings them together and something Simon is actually quite good at.
The people in the club clap as they finish their fourth song and Simon feels the energy of being on stage vibrate under his skin. He bows down in front the audience, smiling as he hears Sara and his mom scream his name before going backstage, determined to gulp down an entire bottle of water.
What he’s not expecting is to find Wilhelm waiting for him there with the biggest bouquet of flowers Simon has ever seen in his life. Ayub whistles behind him while Rosh grabs his arm, forcing him outside the room.
“Hi,” Wilhelm says with a timid look on his face.
Simon is paralyzed, but to be fair it’s a lot to take in.
Wilhelm standing there, all wild dark blonde hair and warm hazel eyes, the corners of his mouth pulled up into that reserved smile of his. He’s wearing dark jeans that cling to his freakishly long legs just right, and a white sweater that’s a little too big for him, making his collarbones peak out from underneath the fabric. Simon pretends he doesn’t want to kiss the freckles he sees there.
It’s not fair.
Wilhelm shouldn’t even look that good. It’s kind of a sloppy fit actually for someone with that ridiculous level of wealth. But that's the thing. He never tried to lean into his privillege and wear designer clothes when there were no camera around. That's actually one of the things that made Simon fall for him. Wait... what? Simon fights back the rise of a blush.
“Hi,” he manages to croak back, cringing at himself. “I didn’t think you would come.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it,” Wilhelm says, swaying on his feet. “You were really good. Like really fucking good Simon. It was incredible.”
Simon feels his face flush.
“Thank you. Are those for me?” he asks, glancing at the flowers.
Wilhelm looks down at them and takes in a shuddering breath before nodding slowly.
“Yeah… I came by the shop earlier and asked your sister to help me.”
Simon grabs the bouquet from his hands and takes a closer look. Purple lilacs, pink carnations, red peonies, and there standing alone in the middle of the white lilies, a primrose. His mind supplies him with the translation immediately. I felt the first emotion of love, you're always on my mind, I respect you and I want to commit. Thousands of butterflies start to flap their wings inside his stomach and Simon can’t contain his smile.
“A primrose, uh?”
“Yeah.” Wilhelm looks like he wants to say something else when his gaze falls on something behind Simon. It’s Ayub and the others, really badly hidden behind the curtain. Simon rolls his eyes.
“Let’s go outside. I need some air anyway.”
“Okay,” Wilhelm breathes out when Simon grabs his hand and links their fingers together before guiding him to the backdoor of the club, throwing the flowers in Sara’s face in passing. They both grab their coats on the way out, and it looks like they did well because it’s snowing when they arrive on the parking lot.
“Fuck, I guess it does snow in April sometimes.”
“Isn’t that the name of one of Prince’s songs?”
Simon turns around in a flash.
“You know his music?”
Wilhelm shrugs.
“I listen to lots of different types of music.”
Okay, Simon might be more than a little bit smitten at this point, he admits it.
“You look beautiful,” Wilhelm blurts out before closing his eyes, a pained expression on his face. Simon laughs, realizing he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
“So do you.”
Dozens of tiny white flakes trickle down through the sky, spinning ever so slowly yet with furious might. Simon feels the cold on his skin and his cheeks, burning like fire when they rest on his face. But it’s nothing compared to the feeling of Wilhelm’s touch, as his hand rises upwards to gently cup his jaw. He's looking at Simon like he's the most beautiful thing he ever laid his eyes on, gaze flickering to his lips.
Simon feels that fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach again.
It’s surreal.
The prince is going to kiss him.
No, scratch that, Wilhelm is going to kiss him. Simon swallows nervously as the snow keeps on falling around them, chanting “Don’t freak out” in his head. A gust of icy wind makes them both tremble and move even closer to one another, looking for warmth. Wilhelm takes in a shuddering breath, eyes shining with determination before finally leaning into a kiss.
Their lips touch hesitantly at first, both aware that someone might see them at any moment even in the dark, but that doesn’t stop them. Simon can help but melt into the kiss. He draws Wilhelm even closer to him by pulling on his scarf, his other hand finding its way into his hair, fingers twisting into the silky strands. Simon feels Wilhelm exhales sharply through his nose, deepening the kiss in response to Simon’s movement.
Simon nips gently at Wilhelm’s bottom lip, feeling a rush of satisfaction when Wilhelm sighs quietly into his mouth. They break the kiss before things can get too heated but Simon can’t stop smiling.
“Well, that was quite the first kiss.”
“I’m a prince, I’ve got tons of fairy tales to hold up to,” Wilhelm says, his tone teasing as he rubs his nose against his.
Simon feels like they’re the only ones in the world.
“Are you officially courting me then?”
“Yes.” Wilhelm says right away. “I’d really like to get to know you better and go on a date with you, if that’s something you might like too, of course.”
Simon beams at him.
“Hm… I’m not sure. Give me at least a dozen more kisses and we’ll see.”
Wilhelm smiles, pulling Simon closer to him by the lapels of his coat and proceeds to do just that.
The end.